


Training

by beef_wonder3



Category: DC Comics
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-07
Updated: 2014-08-07
Packaged: 2018-02-12 05:02:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2096733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beef_wonder3/pseuds/beef_wonder3
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bruce teaches Clark martial arts. Porn ensues.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Training

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by Superman: World of New Krypton #3 but other than that no spoilers.

 

“You’re trying too hard.”

 

Clark glared at Bruce,

“How can someone try too hard?”

 

Bruce explained, only slightly impatiently,

“You’re thinking about the next action, you pre-plan it. It makes you obvious. The movements should flow without conscious thought.”

 

The bats nested in the high ceiling of the Cave squealed at each other as Clark grumped,

“How can I do it if I don’t think about it?” Clark was starting to think this had been a bad idea; asking Bruce to show him a few techniques to use, should he ever have to fight without his powers. Clark should have remembered that Batman was not an easy teacher.

 

“Again.” The other man commanded as he took a stance in front of Clark. Clark sighed, rolled his shoulders and complied, readying his own stance.

 

Bruce struck out a quick jab that Clark easily dodged and gave Clark the opening he needed. He tried not to think about the sequence of jabs that were designed to attack various nerve points.

 

“Better.” Bruce commented as he finished dodging Clarks’ strikes. “Practice that. We’ll come back to that next time. Let’s review the drop-move.”

 

“Okay.” Clark agreed; glad to be done with the nerve-strikes for now. He was sure he would remember them properly, eventually.

 

The big blue mats squished under their bare feet. Both men dressed for sparring, Bruce in just sweats and Clark pairing his sweats with a white wife-beater.

 

“Go.” Was Bruce’s only instruction when they were once again in the ready position. Clark moved quickly, feigning a punch, blocking Bruce’s strike but as Clark went to grab Bruce to flip him to the floor, Bruce swept Clark’s feet from under him, causing the Kryptonian to tumble onto the mat, alone.

 

“I wasn’t expecting that.” Clark said, almost like an excuse. Bruce smirked at him,

 

“Expect everything.” He held out a hand, which Clark grasped and was pulled to his feet again. “You can avoid losing your footing by adjusting your stance.” Bruce demonstrated.

 

“Like this?” Clark asked, trying to mimic Bruce.

 

“No. Here, more like,” Bruce moved to stand behind him, his body pressed close to Clarks’, “this.” He finished, nudging Clark’s feet into the right position. Clark felt the heat of Bruce behind him.

 

Intellectually, Clark knew his own body temperature was higher but Bruce felt hot enough to burn. Clark swallowed heavily as arousal tingled down his spine. Bruce fiddled with Clark’s arms, adjusting them to his satisfaction.

 

“Always keep your guard up.” He rumbled in a low voice close to Clarks’ ear.

 

“Like this?” Clark whispered, turning his head to look at Bruce. He caught Bruce’s eyes in an intense stare. Clark’s earlier aroused tingle spiked hot and hard in his belly. With a slow nod of his head, Bruce pulled away, his hot, intense gaze still on Clark as he moved again; this time to face Clark. Clark bit his lip, as not to let out a disappointed sigh.

 

 Standing prepared, Bruce commanded,

“Come.”

Clark moved quicker than before, avoided Bruce’s leg sweep and flipped Bruce to the mat, only to somehow be dragged down right along with him, landing on Bruce with an “Oof”.

 

Arousal and adrenaline made an irresistible mix as it itched under his skin, making his cock harden where it was pressed into the groove of Bruce’s’ hip and thigh. Feeling even hotter than before, Clark tensed, ready to leap off Bruce and attempt to explain his…uh…reaction.

 

Bruce smirked at him again, eyes locked on Clark’s, as Bruce grabbed Clark’s hip to keep him from moving away. Clark sucked in a sharp breath as he felt Bruce’s cock, hard against his hip. Clark searched Bruce’s face for a moment, looking for a sign as he slowly lowered his head, still waiting for a rejection as he brushed his lips against Bruce’s.

 

“Fuck, Kent,” Bruce growled against Clark’s mouth, “Learn to take a cue.”

 

With that Bruce grasped a handful of hair at the back of Clark’s head and slammed their mouths together. Clark groaned and shuddered, kissing him back eagerly as Bruce attacked his mouth. While Clark was distracted with trying to fuse his tongue with Bruce’s, Bruce levered Clark’s weight to the side, using the momentum to roll them over, putting Clark’s back to the mat.

 

Clark groaned again and bucked as Bruce straddled him, their erections aligned perfectly. Clark couldn’t do more than scrabble at Bruce’s back and whimper as Bruce yanked Clark’s head back, fucking _owning_ his mouth, dominating Clark with lips, teeth and tongue, bruising his lips against Clarks’.

 

Bruce only interrupted his assault on Clarks’ mouth to shove the wife-beater over Clark’s head, before Clark dragged him back down into another kiss. Chests heaving, hips grinding, Clark managed to pull away from Bruce’s mouth long enough to grunt,

“Too many clothes.”

 

Dragging out a hard, slow grind, Bruce replied,

“Then do something about it.”

 

That was all it took for Clark’s hands to attack their sweats, yanking at both at the same time, not sure which of them he wanted naked first. There were ripping sounds but Clark was beyond caring; nothing between them now except sweat and fire. Chest to chest, cock to cock, Clark couldn’t stop the helpless sounds being burned out of him as Bruce grunted above him.

 

Clark’s head fell back in surrender, gasping for air as Bruce moved. Resting his weight on and arm next to Clark’s head, Bruce wormed his other hand down between them, gripping their cocks together in a tight grip.

 

Sliding his hands over the scars and battle wounds on Bruce’s back, Clark couldn’t stop the babble that arose within him,

“Oh _fuck_ yes. God. Had no idea. No idea you wanted this. No idea you wanted me the way I wanted you.” A strangled cry chased away the words as Clark thrust into Bruce’s hand, against his cock.

 

“For a man who is as smart as you,” Bruce replied through gritted teeth as he jerked in time with Clark, “you can be so. God. Damn. Oblivious.” Clark moaned again, hands trailing down to grip Bruce’s ass.

 

And god, he even had scars there too and Clark desperately wanted to know why. Maybe he’d ask, another time. Speaking to each other in only pants and grunts and the thrust of their hips now, Clark’s fingers edged from where they were gripping the taught muscle of Bruce’s ass, dipping into the space between his cheeks.

 

Clark’s finger brushed against the puckered flesh and when Bruce thrust hard against him and hissed out a strained,

“ _Fuck_.” Clark took it as encouragement. Clark removed his hand, still thrusting into Bruce’s tight grip, Clark sucked two of his own fingers into his mouth.

 

Bruce groaned at that and leaned down to whisper in Clark’s ear,

“So fucking hot. Can’t wait to see those pretty lips wrapped around my cock.”

 

Clark bit at his fingers but not even that could mask his whimpers. God, he wanted to. Just fall to his knees and suck Bruce in, all hard and sweat and musk. But not now. Later. Soon.

 

Clark pulled his now wet fingers out and slid them back in between Bruce’s cheeks. He rubbed one wet finger against Bruce’s hole again, making Bruce groan. Clark pressed in, lightly at first, more confidently as the muscle opened around his finger. Clark moaned at the tight heat enveloping him as Bruce shoved back onto Clark’s hand.

 

Slowly, he dragged his finger out and back in again and Clark moaned again as Bruce clenched around his finger and tightened the grip of his hand at the same time. Struggling for breath, Bruce managed to pant out,

“You are not fucking me without proper lube.”

 

Clark grunted back, still moving his finger in time with the stroke of Bruce’s hand,

“Not this time. Gonna … uhn… lose it soon.” Heat rising high and fast, Clark wiggled his second wet digit downwards to press hard just behind Bruce’s balls.

 

The third sensation added to Bruce’s body made the heat between them peak as Bruce’s motions became ragged. And he was coming; eyes clenched shut, fucking himself between Clark’s hand and his own. At the first feel of Bruce’s come slicking his hand and over their cocks, Clark cried out, loosing himself to his own climax.

 

Slowly coming down, the dark haired heroes slumped together on the training mats. Bruce didn’t move to extricate himself from Clark, for once giving into his protesting muscles. Clark hummed in contentment, enjoying the warm, sleepy feeling settling over him.

 

“Don’t go to sleep.” Bruce warned from somewhere around Clark’s neck, “Alfred and the boys will be home soon.”

 

Shifting slightly, Clark tried to stay awake as he suggested,

“In that case, maybe next time we should have our training session at the fortress?”

 

Bruce’s only response was a light chuckle.

 

Fin.


End file.
